In the Spirit of Competition
by Moonchild1212
Summary: New Transfiguration apprentice, Hermione Granger, is drawn into a bet with new friend and fellow Charms apprentice, Abbie Smith. Abbie's insists that Snape's glares are in the spirit of desire rather than disgust, but Hermione isn't so sure. Who will be the first to kiss Severus Snape, and will this little venture blow up in their faces? A/U - post war.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: I don't own it. I didn't come up with the HP universe, but I appreciate the ability to play in it. Again, no Beta, so let me know if you spot wretched errors, and I'll fix them - or if you want to Beta! This shouldn't be a long story - maybe two to four chapters. It wormed into my head this morning over breakfast. The characters are a little OOC. I don't know if I can actually see Hermione getting into this sort of bet, but.. what if?! It's obviously AU, after the war, and I"m assuming that Dumbledore survived in some slight of hand trick. Well, it is intended to be a bit of a fun diversion. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

In the Spirit of Competition

Hermione had begun her apprenticeship shortly after completing her term at the Magical University of London. She had double majored in Transfiguration and Charms, and having recently acquired an apprenticeship in Transfiguration at Hogwarts, she was determined to complete her mastery in her favorite subject. It really was a shame, she reflected, as she took another bite of toast, that she couldn't have triple majored. Licking a bit of marmalade from her lip, she contemplated the possibility of majoring in Potion's as well. A quick flick of her eyes revealed that Severus still occupied his chair at the end of the table. He seemed to be glaring at her. What was new?

"I bet he secretly likes you," came a whisper as the chair beside her pushed back. "Abbie!" She exclaimed as the new Charms apprentice joined her. "No," she shook her head. "You have no idea of the history between us."

Abbie shrugged and cutting her eyes askance, said knowingly, "Mmm, maybe, but he always seems to look at you when you come in for breakfast or when you speak up in the staff meetings." The girl said as she smeared marmalade on her own toast and poured herself a cup of tea. Munching on noisily on her toast, she began to speak, and Hermione wrinkled her nose at the site of masticated toast that Abbie presented as she spoke. She giggled at Hermione's expression, "Sorry," She covered her mouth and continued to speak softly, "I think those sneers are a put on," She remarked, looking up at the man in question, who now wore a disgusted look as he glared at Abbie. Hermione gasped as the cheeky girl winked at Severus.

Hermione couldn't see his reaction as the new professor for Writing and Letters sat down next to Severus, blocking their view. The woman was in her late 30's, plump, and quite average. She did have a kind-of pretty face, Hermione thought to herself, but lately she had the tendency of slicking her hair back and putting it in a bun, which did nothing for the roundness of her chin. The girls caught glimpses of them as Severus looked forward and seemed to ignore the woman, talking out of the side of his mouth when she asked a question but never really meeting her gaze. Hermione liked the woman, Calliope. She was kind, and she had worked with Hermione to develop curriculum for the third years that would prepare them better for the work they would need to accomplish in Transfiguration. Calliope was creating a citation manual based on a muggle British Standard citation style she had used in college.

A half-blood, her muggle mother had demanded that the girl attend muggle private school followed by college. So, her father had been in charge of home schooling her in magic. She had majored in Composition and Literature and had loved it. The woman had even let Hermione peruse her overloaded bookshelves, allowing her to borrow many works of literature that she had never read. It was better than a bookstore because the pages of the books were marked with interesting notes that always had her thinking about the characters and settings allegorically.

Abbie snapped her finger, bringing Hermione back to the present. A rueful smile spread across Abbie's face, "thinking about him again?" the young, beautiful woman teased.

"No, I was actually thinking of Calliope," arching her brow, Hermione shook her head at her incorrigible friend and returned to her breakfast.

"Mmph," Abbie commented, her words unintelligible through the toast she struggled to chew. She took a drink of tea washing it down.

"Really, Abbie, your eating habits are worse than Ron's," She chuckled.

"How is he?" The brunette asked, her dark eyes gleaming with interest at the mention of Ron's name.

Hermione had long since decided that she and Ron were not compatible, but Harry and Ron had come to visit her on several occasions. On the last, she had introduced Ron and Abbie, and since, she had continually fielded Ron's questions via letter and Abbie's daily probing about her friend.

Both started as a chair scraped back loudly. Looking over they spotted Severus standing and Calliope following him, though more quietly. "You heard he was giving her lessons?" Abbie narrowed her eyes as they left.

"Yes, and Professor Flitwick is teaching her charms, right?" Hermione asked, "It's a shame that some people are never able to attend Hogwarts," her eyes followed Calliope and Snape, who seemed bent on keeping some kind of special barrier between them. His long legged stride made it difficult for the petite woman to keep up. "I bet the Headmaster forced Snape to give her lessons," Hermione mused in a thoughtful voice.

Abbie snorted, "Yeah, it's not like he would willingly agree to be locked alone with her for hours. I don't know what's up with her hair, but it's awful. When she got here, she left it down, and it was quite pretty. But with it pulled back like that, and have you seen it? By lunchtime it is positively frizzy and her face gets all oily, must be the potions, but would YOU do something about that?" Shaking her head full of inky sausage curls, she picked up her second piece of toast and began to chew thoughtfully.

"Oh no," Hermione murmured, "You have that look again."

Abbie smirked, turning to her friend slowly. "You know, I've caught him glaring at me too." She wagged her eyebrows.

"It couldn't be due to your tendency to speak while your mouth is full; one could hardly fail to notice, Abbie." Hermione said ruefully.

Rolling her eyes, Abbie explained, "Look, I know he thinks I'm beautiful. I mean, every man I've ever met has said so – not that it means anything to me," She shrugged nonchalantly. And Hermione knew she spoke the truth. Abbie didn't care what she looked like; she was far more interested in Charms and.. Quidditch. She was a very aggressive player, and on the last occasion that the boys had visited, she had joined the pick-up game they had started, summarily slaughtering Ron and giving Harry a run for his money. She took care of herself as well as Lavender, though lacked the sort of snobbish pretense that the popular girl had put on. Abbie was beautiful but very likable, down to earth. Being pretty was just some weird coincidence she accepted … and used when it suited her. She was . . . a Slytherin, after all, and Hermione adored her for it.

"So, you have deduced that because Severus Snapes scowls at you, that he fancies you? And what, pray tell, are you going to do with this information. Mind you, I think your mad and completely off base, but I'm curious to see what your mind has cooked up this time." She said skeptically. Sometimes hanging around with Abbie could be just as bad or worse because of the high jinx she often got drug into. She could put Ron and Harry to shame.

Abbie grinned, "See, that's where you are wrong. I'm completely on base. I've been watching him every time either of us is around, and I've seen the way his eyes follow you and well, particularly the way he catalogs where I am in a room, Hermione." The brunette protested.

Sighing, Hermione explained, "He was a spy, Abbie. It was his JOB to know where everyone was in a room, and I'm telling you he probably knows something is up because of the way you've been acting. He doesn't trust anyone. I mean, you see the way he keeps Calliope at a distance, and she's the kindest, gentlest, most unassuming woman I've ever met!" screwing up her face, Hermione shook her head. I think you're wrong.

"Well," grinning rakishly, Abbie proposed, "Let's say we make a wager, in the spirit of friendly competition?" Sipping her tea noisily and drawing a scowl from Professor McGonnegall, Abbie continued, "I'll wager you my new Vestonian bag. Oh yes, I've seen the way you drool over it, and you, what will you wager?" The Slytherin asked, cutting her eyes at Hermione.

"I'm not about to wager anything without knowing what we are betting on. I may be a Gryffindor, but I wasn't born yesterday." She huffed, shaking her wild mane of curly hair, which age had tamed into thight honeyed corkscrew curls. Unbeknownst to her, she was just as lovely as Abbie, the two, opposite ends of the same coin. Where Hermione was fair and creamy, Abbie's skin was beautifully dusky, a warm color redolent with imagery of spice and nectar. Hermione's hair tended toward a golden brown, while Abbies brown locks were so dark as to seem almost black. Their faces were similarly delicate with finely wrought noses and large eyes. Hermione's amber orbs were clever and fetching while Abbie's smoldered with the dark promise of knowledge and cunning. Any man would do well to be wary when those two heads were put together, and Severus Snape was no fool.

However, Hermione's mind was on the Vestonina bag. They were very pricy, and they had an expandable charm, a weightless charm, and a lifetime guarantee. It put her beaded back to shame. Not to mention, it was made from indestructible dragon-hide that came in a variety of colors (if you could find one). Abbie's was a sensible warm-brown shade that shimmered like gold in the sunlight, and Hermione had lusted after it from the moment her eyes had caught sight of it. Abbie knew that sealing this deal was merely a matter of formality.

"Alright, the rules of the bet: We have until the end of the summer to fulfill the parameters of the bet, so eight weeks. If the nature of the bet is revealed to anyone, the deal is off." The Slytherin said slyly, "No spells, potions, or trickery can be used to achieve the bargain – other than womanly wiles. That means no polyjuice." She smiled knowingly at Hermione's puzzled expression. "The bet:" She whispered, " Whoever manages to kiss Snape first, wins, and I don't mean forcibly attacking him. I mean – you both lean in and kiss. It doesn't have to involve tongue." She said, wrenching her face as if to suggest that the mere thought was disgusting.

"Abbie," Hermione said warily, "I think it would be wrong to toy with a man's affections like that, if you're not serious." She warned.

Abbie schooled her features, "Yes, but if you have an understanding, you know, 'I'm not looking for anything serious,' and you get a kiss. You can easily continue an association and even turn it into an association that benefits you. It doesn't hurt to know a Potion's master that well or someone who understands the Dark Arts. Just think of what he could teach you." She whispered.

"Yes, but I'm sure if you asked, Professor Snape, however crossly, would teach you whatever you want to know within reason or provide a potion if it was necessary. I'm sure he would ask for payment or something that would benefit him in some way. He is a Slytherin, but if you think he won't smell this plot a mile away, you're barking." Hermione countered.

"You're no fun," Abbie sighed.

The Gryffindor barked a laugh, covering her mouth and giving Professor McGonnegal a sheepish look, "You've only just discovered this?" She teased. "Listen, let's say I indulge you and … bet my Oxeanath boots against your bag." She grinned as Abbies eyes glittered enviously. The black boots in question were dangerous, seriously dangerous, having several magical blades disguised in the heel and toe. They were invaluable for her tromps into the forest. They were imbued with charms that could allow the wearer to almost fly for a short space, time enough to extract ones self from trouble, and the retractable blades worked on voice command to eject and eliminate a target. Hermione had purchased them with Acromantula's in mind. She loved visiting the forest, but she had no desire to become something's lunch.

"You're on," The eager Slytherin agreed.

"I haven't finished," Hermione warned, "So, let's say I agree to this bet. I'll wager you a counter bet that he confronts one or both of us knowing the exact details of the bet. The same rules apply. You can't tell anyone, and you can't use magic or magical devices. So, no memory modification or Occulmancy." Hermione offered.

"What? How on earth is he going to guess exactly what we are up to?" The girl remarked incredulously. By now the great hall was empty, and it was time to leave for their duties.

Hermione rose swiftly, whispering, "He's been a teacher at Hogwarts for just about all of his Adult life. You don't think he's had something like this pulled on him before?" She said exasperatedly, feeling more than a little guilty for even entertaining this bet, but the call of that bag was wickedly enticing. What if she convinced Severus that she needed someone to kiss her to break a spell? Or , well, she couldn't tell him of the bet, but what if she made a deal with him in exchange for a platonic kiss? Her mind raced trying to determine what she could barter with him for a kiss.

"I don't think so, not if you're careful," the brunette replied skeptically, "I mean, you're the weak link, and if anyone is going to give it away . . . " Abbie said only half teasing.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Have you listened to none of the stories that Ron and Harry have told? I'm quite capable of pulling this off," She said assuaging her wounded pride.

Cocking her eyebrow as if she had just won a prize, Abby asked, "So, deal?" She stretched out her hand and Hermione took it carefully.

"Deal," The Gryffindor agreed, wondering what sort of epic mistake she had just made and all for a Vestonian bag.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I don't own it. I didn't come up with the HP universe, but I appreciate the ability to play in it. Again, no Beta, so let me know if you spot wretched errors, and I'll fix them - or if you want to Beta! This chapter skips around a bit from character to character. I hope it isn't too disjointed, but I'll base any rewrites on your suggestions. Thanks again for reading! I'd love a review - even if it is to tell me that it sucks and needs some serious revision, but please give me concrete suggestions. I don't know what to do with "It sucks", and I can't really make it better without an idea of what went wrong. Thank you for your patience!

Chapter 2

"What on earth is that girl up to now, Poppy?" Minerva asked, pouring a drop of whiskey in her tea and offering the flask to the woman opposite her. They were old friends, and tea time was their daily indulgence in their favorite pastimes – drinking and gossip.

Poppy tittered, nodding, safe in the assurance that the infirmary was empty, no classes were in session, and her own apprentice was monitoring the desk. Should anything arise, she could always take a sobering potion. Her eyes gleamed as she took a sip, "You're just raw because they don't ever ask us to tag along!" The mediwitch teased. "I heard them, you know." She tittered, which was enough to let her know that this should be her last glass of "tea" for the afternoon.

Minerva pierced the matron with a glare, pursing her lips, "Well, spill it." She ordered, taking a sip of her tea. She arched a brow superior at Poppy and was heartily glad that she, unlike her good friend, could hold her liquor. It was one surefire tactic to weasel information out of others.

The matron smiled slyly, "The've a bet going. I heard the gist of it before we left. I may have… listened with a little wand enhancement." This was punctuated with another giggle, which was followed by a roll of Minerva's eyes. "All right, Abbie thinks that Severus," She snickers, "fancies one or both of them," She lost control of herself and gave way to laughter.

"Foolish child." Minerva huffed, "Don't tell me that Hermione bought it for a minute?" She said skeptically, "Are the blind? He has a paranoid streak a mile long, and he trusts everyone under the age of 30 about as far as he can throw them. Abbie's antics certainly haven't won her any favors with him. She's just clever enough to get away with them, but it's no secret who is cutting up with the castle nearly empty." Sighing, she took a long draught, emptying her glass and pouring another.

"Want to make a wager?" Poppy asked.

"What about a bottle of Talisker's to the winner?" The woman offered.

"Alright who will he hex first?" Poppy suggested.

"Hmm… seems simple enough. I think he'll come down harder on Hermione because she really should know better." She frowned wryly.

"Oooh no,no,no because our Hermione has a modicum of tact. That little Slytherin, he's going to smell her coming a mile away. She is going to get herself hexed into next week!" The mediwitch exclaimed.

Verra well," Minerva agreed her brogue showing, extending her hand, she grasped Poppy's and shook, "It's a bet!"

Minerva had been acting odd, Hermione mused. They had been reviewing curriculum for the past three hours and rethinking a few assignments for the fourth years, when the woman, out of the blue, asked her if she had any plans for the weekend. She never had plans for the weekend, "No," She remarked, "did you have anything in mind?" Hermione asked.

Minerva, who had been angling for information, saw another opportunity present itself, "Oh, I just thought that you and Abbie might want to join Poppy and I at the Three Broomsticks on Friday night. You know, to let your hair down," She smiled, her blue eyes frankly examining the young woman next to her.

"Umm… Sure," Hermione agreed, turning back to review the sheets of velum before her.

"Good, now, I am going to look for a few text's in the library. I think they'll be helpful in offering a few different exercises to test similar skills. I shouldn't be gone long." She promised.

"What?" Abbie asked, shoveling a large spoonful of stew into her mouth.

"I know… isn't that odd?" Hermione said, unable to touch her own stew just yet, with her mind spinning like a top.

"Why on earth would she . . .?" Abbie chewed thoughtfully, "It's fishy. Ok, we're going to go, but there is no way that I'm getting drunk. Do you think they heard something this morning and plan on talking to us about it?" The brunette muttered as she buttered the roll on her plate.

"Nooo," Hermione said softly, thoughtfully, "She would have called us both into her office if she had heard that we were . . . making foolish bets." Glancing over at her friend, she wondered if they shouldn't just call this whole business off. Sure, there was part of her that just wanted to win. She had a competitive streak a mile wide, and she had been paying attention to Severus. His eyes followed her wherever she went. She had to admit that even though he wasn't what one would consider traditionally handsome, there was something titillating about such a powerful, brave wizard giving one the eye. Who knows what might come of it. She smiled secretly to herself. "Then again, she had always had a way of getting under the man's skin, and that could very well be what this was all about." She bobbed her head, mulling it over before turning her attention to dinner.

Everything seemed to be going fine, that is until afters. She looked over at Abbie, who had her pudding spoon shoved the wrong way in her mouth and was licking it as if it were coated in ambrosia. The expression on her face was pure hedonism, and as the girl opened her eyes, she looked over at Severus. Hermione followed her gaze to see Snape staring abashedly at the little imp. Calliope was shaking, Hermione noted, and her face was red. Was she crying. Snape made some snide comment whose tone she could make out but content was lost on her ears. He stood abruptly, glaring at Hermione, whose wide-eyed innocent stair only seemed to infuriate him further as he turned awkwardly, completely out of character for Snape, knocking his chair over.

With a wave of his hand the seat was righted, and Calliope made a hasty exit as well, following him down the hallway, to apologize, no doubt, for some slight that was not her own. Hermione gritted her teeth. The man was insufferable. How was anyone supposed to get close enough to have a conversation with the man much less kiss him. Well, hadn't Callipe done it? She had daily lessons with the man, so perhaps she could wrangle a spare lesson out of him and offer to help Calliope out with her studying. She was resolved to head to the dungeons after dinner to see if she could get into his good graces.

Abbie snorted, "I think he was turned on," She said, flashing Hermione a knowing glare.

"Abbie, you can't be serious?" The wild haired witch said scathingly. "As a Slytherin, you should know better than to be so obvious. You've embarrassed him in front of the other staff, and I think he was so angry he made Callipe cry!" She admonished.

"Naw, she was laughing, at me probably. She's probably seen the way he looks at us and has an idea of what's transpiring. I mean, not what's really going on, but I think she thinks that he finds us irresistible, and I think she thinks that we know." She wagged her dark eyebrows suggestively.

"What?" Her brow puckered incredulously before lowering, " I really wish you would quit that thing with your eyebrows. On second thought, Ron is going to love it." She snickered.

"Oh yeah, what else does he love? I bet he would like the way I eat pudding." The Slytherin smirked.

"I'm sure he would," Hermione said dryly.

"Giggling, in the Potion's classroom." Minerva smirked, hovering around the corner and listened.

"I can't get it right, Severus," Calliope said, frustrated.

"It takes time, but you are coming along nicely. Now, why don't we go to my quarters for a drink?" He said warmly.

"I'd like that. Do you mind if I use your shower. Brewing seems to cover me in sweat and … well, I have no idea. I really enjoy it, but afterwards, I must look a fright." The young writing teacher said earnestly.

"Nonsense, you look lovely." Severus assured her.

Minerva's jaw dropped and she crept forward to peer into the room in time to see Severus kiss the woman's forehead. "Oh, oh girls, are you ever in for a surprise," She whispered to herself, backing up and heading swiftly up to the infirmary to let Poppy know the latest tidbit she had stumbled upon.

"Mmhmm… you heading down there like that?" Abbie asked, propping her feet up on the back of Hermione's sofa while her head hung down and her hair pooled on the floor. She turned her head to the side. "I mean, it looks like you just got off work." She popped the lolly she had been sucking on back in her mouth and looked for all the world to Hermione like some overgrown child.

"Ron is going to fall madly in love with you once you two get a chance to date," Hermione said, as she pulled off her heavy sweater. "Well, what now?" She gestured with helplessly with her hands. "I can't go down there like this," She ran her hands down her body like some TV hostess displaying a game show prize.

"I don't know," Abbie smacked, pulling the red sucker out again, "I'll bet your lacy bra would get a response. That's pretty. Where'd you get it? Think Ron would like it? Has he ever seen that one?" She peppered Hermione with questions.

Hermione's mouth worked without producing sound for a moment, "A response, yes, thank you, at Bloomingdales, yes, and no." She completed looking up at the ceiling as she answered each question in order. "Ron has never seen my under things, and I don't intend on Professor Snape seeing them either." She remarked prissily, turning to her closet.

"I thought he was Severus . . . remember? They told us we were colleagues," The brunette said offhandedly.

Sighing, Hermione ran her hands over her face and through her hair, causing the curls around her face to fluff out.

"Just wear the black shirt, the fitted on, those tight skinny jeans, and your .. boots. Bring your cloak, so it looks like you are going to collect ingredients. He'll think that's sexy, and if he asks, you can always invite him to go with you." Abbie shrugged.

Hermione had a feeling that Abbie was setting her up for failure, but she was at a loss as to how to shoot down this seemingly good idea. The black shirt was snug but the collar was modest. She would look cool and hip while all in black, and inviting him to come with her could work in her favor. Maybe she could think of a way to wrangle a kiss out of him and be done with it.

Abbie smirked, knowingly as Hermione dressed, and the Griffindor took note of it. It only served to further exacerbate her anxiety.

"Good luck," Abbie called out as she left. The door closed and she added, "You're gonna need it," as she righted herself to lean back on the couch and wait for her friend's return. Snap was probably still in the middle of that potion's lesson, and if they were in the midst of making a potion, he would resent the intrusion. The outfit she had suggested was clearly out of character for Hermione, who had purchased those tight jeans but never worn them. They still smelled new, and the potion master wouldn't fail to observe that fact. Gryffindors were far too obvious and far too easy. She would have done better to leave on the robes she had worn that day and humbly request to join him on his next outing to gather ingredients. To dictate to him by presuming that HE would want to accompany HER was rather obnoxious. "Gryffindors," She chuckled, eating her sucker with gusto.

"Ok," Hermione murmured to herself as she headed towards the dungeon. "You can do this." She wished that the trip from her chambers to the dungeon had been a little longer, far too quickly she found herself out side of the potion's lab. The door was opened, but she knocked anyway. The only sound she heard was the gentle roil of a cauldron, probably left to simmer. "Hello?" She said, peaking her head inside.

She was partly relieved that was not there, but she knew that if she didn't knock on his chamber door and went back to Abbie without trying, she would feel ridiculous. She stood for a moment dithering before heading to his chambers. Knocking, she waited patiently, fidgeting with her cloak.

The door opened swiftly, and Snape seemed to fill the doorway. Hermione felt his eyes rake over her, saw his nostrils flare, and trembled as his eyes narrowed, piercing her with their intensity, "What is it Granger?" He barked, looking down the corridor, his lips pressed thin and his hair flapping wildly as he twisted his head one way and then the other, as if expecting to find a horde of Gryffindors attacking.

"Well, you see, sir," She said, second guessing her decision to approach him this way, " you see. I was wondering if you would be willing to give me advanced tuition in Potions." Even to her own ears it sounded forced and grasping.

He drew back as if slapped, "No, Granger, I lack the time or patience to entertain your little flight of fancy." He barked.

"Well, it's just that," she gaped like a fish for a moment, as if struggling for air, "I could help Calliope, with studying or tutor her some to help, too, and maybe I could help out some in the lab?" She said, sounding completely wrong footed.

"Granger," he huffed, looking back longingly at what she assumed to be his fire, a comfy chair, and likely a very interesting book, " if I had wanted an apprentice, I would have taken one on. I doubt seriously that you have the spare time required to take on the duties that would be required of you from two masters. I am currently providing lessons to another student, but I realize that giving you your marching orders will only send you running in tears to McGonnegal, riling at the unfair treatment by your supposed colleague. So, if you would like a recommended reading list or a copy of standard Potion's apprentice curriculum because you JUST don't have enough to keep you occupied and Out –Of – Trouble, I will send you a list. Look for my owl. Good evening." He nearly shouted as he slammed the door in her face.

She raised her hand to knock, stunned, wondering if she could still ask him to come with her to look for potion's ingredients in the forest. At a loss, she hovered there for a few more minutes before Abbie darted around the corner, grabbed her forearm to prevent her from knocking out of some strange desire for self flagellation, and ushered her back to her room.

"That . . . was a spectacular failure!" The Slytherin cackled.

Hermione, still mute, looked over at her friend owlishly, "You … you knew that would happen?" She said incredulously, her heart still in her throat.

"Had no idea," Abbie grinned, but you were amazingly guileless. I'm sure it's going to eat him alive all night wondering if you were in earnest or you were toying with his affections. I bet he was looking down the hall to see if I would slink down it in a neglege. In fact, I bet that's what he'll be thinking about later on tonight when he," Here she wagged her eyebrows again saucily, "in the shower. If you know what I mean." Snickering, she helped Hermione take off her boots, recline on the couch, and handed her a cup of tea.

"Honestly, I really do wish you would stop doing that with your eyebrows. You're as bad as Ron." She scowled, then the laughter started. First she giggled, thinking about how Abbie's eyebrows reminded her of two dark, deranged (albeit well groomed) caterpillars on the wild girl's forehead, and then she wondered how she was going to get through breakfast in the morning without dying of embarrassment.

Abbie couldn't help but join her in laughter, and fifteen minutes later, when the hysteria died down she said with hitching breath, "So . . . what was . . . that about? Oooh, but it was fun." Sprawled on a well cushioned chair, she flopped her head to the side, smashing her cheek against the cushion as she waited for Hermione's answer.

"I'm wondering if" She took in a deep breath and began again, "if I'm ever going to be able to look that man in the eye again. If he wasn't suspicious before, my behavior tonight has him hyper-aware." She shook her head at her own idiocy. Sighing with exasperation, she threw her head back on the soft cushion of the couch and glared at the innocent ceiling, as if it were at fault for this entire ordeal.

"Naa, you'll be fine. I'm telling you he has no idea and is probably more flattered than annoyed." She assured her friend.

"Abbie, either you are putting me on or you have completely misjudged your Head of House," Hermione groused.

Abbie smirked but remained silent, her face still pressed awkwardly to the cushion smashed her lips awkwardly giving her a goonish look. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, sending herself and eventually Hermione into fits of laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I don't own it. It isn't mine, but I"m happy to play in the universe. We are getting closer to the end. There are no reviews, so I"m getting the feeling that this isn't a very interesting story for you guys. If there is a problem with the flow, the way it is written, or any other issue, please let me know. I am willing to rework some or all of it if necessary. This chapter throws a curve. I wonder if you saw it coming. I really consider most of my plots fairly transparent, but we shall see. We get a bit of a flashback here. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 3

(Flashback – Calliope)

What did one wear to a job interview at a magical institution? Sure, she had been raised as a muggle, but that did not mean that she should fail to take wizarding culture into consideration. Then again, her mother had always urged her to be proud of her muggle heritage. Her father said that it would do no harm to take a look in Diagon Alley, and even though she had shopped there on occasion, it had never occurred to her to buy robes. So, if she were going to wear them, she would need to purchase a set.

She had worked in a muggle Junior College for the last six years, but her father had spotted the advertisement for the job opening for a Professor with writing credentials to begin a writing and research course for upper and lower division students at Hogwarts. Journals were becoming pickier with what they would and would not publish, and it was becoming necessary for students entering wizarding university to understand the basics of citations and references. Things were changing rapidly, and wizards were developing their own unique magical databases and reference styles.

Calliope had thought it a brilliant opportunity and decided to set about creating a citation style for Wizarding reference based on British Standard. She hoped that her credentials, background, and initiative would put her a step ahead of the other candidates.

Readying herself that morning, she had opted for modest but formfitting black robes. She curled her long, silky hair carefully with the charms she had learned at the salon years ago, put on a bit of muggle concealer, eye shadow, bold lipstick, and slipped on a pair of kitten heels. She had always felt better when she made a little effort, and even though she was a curvy woman, she rather liked the way she looked. Pleasant and friendly, she had never wanted for companions, and though she was never the most beautiful girl in the room, no one ever seemed to mind. Even the three year dry spell she had been on had failed to dampen her spirit. She would find the right man when it was time, and until then – wizard or muggle- she would look out for opportunities where she found them.

It was a bit disconcerting to think about being holed up in the wilds of Scotland with a load of children and very few men on staff, but that just meant that she would have to make opportunities to get out and meet people when she had the time. Well, she had always wanted to go to Hogwarts, and this was her chance. The lack of eligible bachelors was just one negative in a list full of positives. Besides, Professor McGonnagal had seemed thrilled to meet with her as soon as she was available. That either meant she was impressed or there was a serious dearth of suitable candidates.

She arrived early, apparating unsteadily outside of the gate and, looking up at the castle, she was struck by a heartsickness that she had never know before. She dearly wished that she could have attended as a child, but in her letter, Professor McGonnagall assured her that the Heasmaster would be happy to allow her to work with the other professors to fill in the gaps of her magical education. They were hiring her for her writing expertise not her magical abilities, and she had even been encouraged to start book clubs or writing groups with the children who were interested. In short, she would have free reign to do what she like and leave to work with her fellow Professors. She was most excited about potions, of which she had only a very rudimentary knowledge.

Her father had despaired because she seemed to do fairly well in her basic Potion's tuition he provided. She had an excellent grasp of the various ingredients, had spent nearly every day of her summer foraging for plants and exploring their make-up, and she had excelled at the potions that he would allow her to attempt. However, he had failed miserably never passing beyond third year, and though he allowed her to use his own potions text, he was afraid to allow her to make advanced potions on her own. "I wish you had been able to study with Professor Snape," he had mourned on more than one occasion. "He was tough, but I bet he would have enjoyed having you in his class." Her father's recommendation of the man had been all she needed, and she had spent her childhood building up the Professor, who was no doubt the greatest potioneer on the face of the earth. After all, her father's said so, and the Prophet had given wonderful accounts of his great deeds during the war. She only hoped that he would agree to teach her and not consider it a complete waste of his precious time.

"Of all the dumb luck," Severus grumbled. There were two candidates for the new position for Professor of Writing and Letters. The first idiot had completely plagiarized the essays that he had sent in. Severus recognized the one, because he had published it himself under a pseudonym in Potion's Weekly. Most professional Potioneers knew that he wrote under the name of Gerrard Butler and could have told the fool to choose another journal. Why the idiot WOULD choose a potion's essay was beyond him.

Minerva had insisted on bringing the man stating, "Well, we'll just have a look-see. Maybe his talents lie elsewhere?" She shrugged carelessly. The blaze attitude was unlike her and had made him distrustful.

"Are you seriously considering hiring a man to teach students about proper citation techniques who PLAGARIZED an article for his own interview?" He bristled; his voice echoing in the Headmaster's charmingly – yet bizarrely- decorated office. His ire was punctuated by the ridiculous whirrs and whistles of the magical objects scattered throughout the room.

"Severus," exasperated, the Transfiguration professor pinned her colleague with a withering glare, "we have to interview at least two candidates for the position in order to meet the requirements set by the Board of Governors. I don't care if he's as empty-headed as a flobberworm." She said as she sat forward, gripping the arms of the chair and pinning him with her patent schoolmarm-glare.

"Severus, Minerva, please." Dumbledore lifted his hands, waving them both gently. "Now is not the time. Miss. Jones will be joining us shortly.

Irritated beyond measure, Severus sat back in his chair, causing the worn leather to creak, wondering if the day could really get any worse, "Why on earth couldn't you to make this decision on your own?" He groused, upset that he had been drug into this fiasco. He had enough to do with restocking the infirmary.

"Severus, you verra well know that everra one else is off gallivanting this summer. The Board wanted one of tha professors to sit in on the interrview to provide input on tha choice of candidate." She huffed, paused, and patted her hair, trying to regain her equilibrium, " If you've nothing helpful to say. Please, feel free to remain silent." Minerva snipped, her irritation causing her brogue to become more pronounced. Pursing her lips she fidgeted looking altogether as if she might eat her own hat or make Severus eat it himself.

Ignoring her, the scowling man folded his arms over his chest petulantly and decided to do just that.

Just then they heard a tentative knock.

Dumbledore waved his hand, opening the door and activating the mechanism, bringing Calliope to the door within moments. Looking over his shoulders, Severus felt his throat constrict as he caught sight of the witch who entered. Turning abruptly, he carefully schooled his expression and sat thought what proved to be one of the most uncomfortable hours of his life. The minx insisted on taking the chair next to him AND addressing him with more questions than absolutely necessary.

"Well, my dear," Dumbledore had smiled in his fatherly way, signaling the end of the interview, "I believe that I speak for all of us when I tell you that we would be delighted to have you on staff." His kindly eyes had tinkled and met Severus' mulish expression.

For his part, he refused to speak; though, he was irritated at the man's gall to offer the woman a job during the interview. It just wasn't done. One glance at Minerva revealed that she was just as thrilled about the addition to their staff.

"Are there questions you have for us?" Dumbledore had asked.

"Well," Calliope worried her bottom lip and banking on the fact that it was better to ask here than one on one, "I had hoped to begin a few lessons. Potions, for one, has always fascinated me . . ." She said, her eyes trained on Dumbledore and struggled not to notice Professor Snape's reaction out of the corner of her eye. She was him react, and she was quite dejected. She had hoped that upon meeting her he would eagerly offer her lessons and excitedly show her his supply closet where he carefully preserved his ingredients. She had dereamed of the moment when she might look at the shrine that was his work space and admire the fine tools he used to harvest ingredients. In short, the sort of daily activities that children in his classes dreaded, Calliope had fantasized. Had he been able to make eye contact and read her thoughts, one might have been able to knock him over with a feather. The thought of spending hours cutting out rat spleens to learn the proper means of preservation, well, it was unthinkable that anyone would readily do such a thing.

But, he didn't make eye contact. Instead, he sat glaring angrily at the misshapen clock on Dumbledore's desk, as if it was the author of his misery.

"Splendid!" The old wizard praised, "Severus would be more than happy to begin your training whenever you are ready. Isn't that right, my boy?" He agreed, his eyes twinkling as he lowered his head, peeked over the golden frames of his glasses, and fastened Severus with a kindly but firm glance. There was no mistaking the order.

"Of course, Headmaster." He said darkly, his deep voice rumbling like the roll of thunder, sending a message of his own.

Calliope had sense enough to remain quiet. It took a few days to settle in. She imeediately began crafting syllabi for her classes, working with each professor to insure that their objectives were being met as well. It was tedious and time consuming, and she had left her meeting with Severus off for last. Unable to put it off any longer, she had approached him, knocking on his door softly.

"Come in," he barked, his displeasure at her arrival clear upon his face.

"Hello," she smiled unassumingly, unsure how to address him.

"Yes? What can I do for you Professor Jones?" He asked curtly.

"Well, I was wondering if you would mind looking over the syllabi I've drafted. I have been trying to align them with the sort of research projects expected of each year. I was wondering if you might have any input." The olive branch extended, she waited with bated breath.

"So you want me to do your job for you?" He sneered. "This is what comes of hastily hiring faculty." He groused.

"No, not at all!" She said defensively. Sighing, she continued, "I don't know what I've done to upset you, but I am terribly sorry to have imposed upon your time. I only thought to take into consideration the requirements of your class and the needs of the students to prepare them for your coursework." She shook her head, regretting that the situation had gone this far. She had hoped that he would be civil, but that was evidently too much to hope for. Turning, she strode to the door with measured steps, her curls bouncing agitatedly.

When she turned to leave, Severus was struck with a matter of conscience, a remembrance of the look that Dumbledore had given him, and the swish of her shapely bottom. "Stop," he croaked, throat dry; he coughed and began again, standing, "I . . . apologize, Ms. Jones."

Callipe turned, face red with embarrassment. He had just insulted her and now he was offering her an apology. The wheels clicked, and she replied calmly, her warm green eyes meeting his, "If this is some attempt to prevent me from going to the Headmaster and complaining, rest assured that I will not. I had hoped to learn about potions from you because my father wasn't really able to give proper lessons when I was a girl. So, you see, I've looked forward to this for most of my life," She said earnestly, looking around his office at the specimens longingly. "If you haven't the time, I understand, but there really is no reason to insult me or refuse to even speak civilly to me. If you are not concerned with the writing curriculum of your students, so be it. Your colleagues have given me a great deal of helpful feedback. In the future, I will make a note not to disturb you." She nodded, giving him a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.

"No, I am not worried about the headmaster," He said grumpily. "I am truly sorry for my behavior, and if it is lesions you wish then lessons you shall have. I am not know for my sweet disposition Ms. Jones," he warned.

"Calliope," she corrected, "Please call me Calliope,"

"Very well, Calliope. If you will leave the syllabi here I will review them this evening and return them to you with any notations. Please feel free to discuss any suggestions with me further, and, if you still so desire, we may meet this evening after dinner for your first lesson." His dark eyed met hers earnestly.

Calliope swallowed thickly, "Well, that would be lovely … err. Professor." She said almost breathlessly, flushing under the weight of his stair.

"Please, call me Severus," He said silkily.

Backing up slowly, she nodded, "Okay, I'll . . . I'll see you this evening . . . Severus." She stumbled slightly as her heel caught on an uneven stone. She would forever swear that the castle did that intentionally. She caught herself on the door frame but only moments before he arrived to steady her elbow.

"Are you alright?" He asked, overcome with the urge to be accommodating and solicitous to the woman.

Calliope found herself unable to speak and nodded, feeling his closeness like some irresistible force. Mesmarized, she reached forward to touch the precise row of buttons that trailed down his chest, "You've got so many buttons on your jacket." She prattled. Blushing, she looked up at him, embarrassment stamped across her face quite literally, "I'm sorry. What I meant to say is they are nice, your buttons." She giggled nervously, her hand still pressed to his chest. She fought the insane urge to ask if she could press his buttons, which only made her giggle more.

Severus cocked his head, looking into her eyes and reading her nervous excitement. He spoke, his voice low and gravelly, "Calliope, are you flirting with me." His eyes flashed with something quite devilish as he enjoyed her speechless antics. But, it also gave him a moment to examine her up close while she was otherwise occupied. Her lips were full, her expression sweet, and her round breasts looked even more sumptuous at this angle. The direction of his gaze had caused heat to rise in her cheeks.

"Oh Severus! There you are!" Minerva shouted as she scurried down the hall, spotting them loitering in his office doorway.

Scowling at the interloper, Severus sighed with frustration, "Where else would I be Minerva" He grumbled.

"Well, umm," Calliope hastily removed her hand from his chest as Minerva stood in front of them eyeing them speculatively, her eyebrow arching as Calliope stepped back, nearly tumbling again if it hadn't been for Severus' quick reflexes.

"Do be careful, Calliope, or you'll spend the evening in the infirmary instead of hedonistically indulging in your first round of Potion's lessons." He teased.

Minerva smiled, "Oh, well, that's wonderful," she beamed at Calliope, "just let me know when you are ready to learn more about Transfiguration! I have a few wonderful books to recommend that are just perfect for mature students brushing up on theory." She patted the girls arm and watched her leave. "What a charming girl." She turned to glare at Severus, "You had better not foul it up." She said sternly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, turning abruptly and heading back into his office.

Abbie crept around the corner smirking and headed out of the dungeon and to the library to find Hermione.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I don't own it. It's not mine. I"m glad I get to play in JK's world. Here is the final chapter of our story! I hope you have enjoyed the little tale. It had burrowed into my head, and I wanted to get it out quickly. I appreciate any feed back in the spirit of making it better! Thank you for reading, and I hope you will leave a review with your impressions.

Chapter 4

"He kissed her?" Poppy tittered. "How nice. I like her. I think the'll be lovely together" The matron mooned.

"Well, yes. I mean I didn't see him kiss her lips, but . . . I didn't expect them to progress this quickly, Minerva said speculatively. Severus had been alone for so long that to see him with someone let alone to see him behaving romantically was a little much to adjust to. She had seen it coming, when she had interrupted ... well, whatever she had interrupted in the doorway of his office. They had both blushed like naughty children.

"Quickly!" Poppy eyed her skeptically. The man hasn't been laid in years. I'm shocked that he hasn't slipped her a potion and landed her in his bed already. He must be some sort of saint." The matron remarked dryly, talking a sip of her doctored tea. Severus had been the youngest Professor on staff for a long time, and his early efforts to maintain his distance between himself and the students had never thawed. He had never truly felt like one of them until after the war, regardless of their efforts to befriend him.

"Yes, well, I've heard it from the portraits that Hermione received quite the rude dismissal last night," Minerva said, pouring a dollop of whisky into her tea. "I hope you're ready to pay up, Poppy." She grinned at her friend before daintily nibbling on a piece of shortbread. She had been a little disappointed that the girl hadn't shown a little more nerve. She was a Gryffindor, after all.

"Pbbbt," The matron blew air from her lips dismissively, her candor and lack of decorum a sign that she was well on her way to being drunk. "Just watch, that little Slytherin is just setting her up so that she can make her grand entrance." Poppy nodded. She had watched the dynamic between the girls, and she could just see the wheels turning when Abbie plotted. The girl was Slytherin through and through.

A knock on the door silenced them both. They stilled, meeting each other's eyes skeptically.

"Hello?" Minerva called, waving her wand to open her door. Albus sauntered in merrily.

"Ahh! Tea! Might I have a cup?" He wheedled, sitting of Minerva's soft, tartan clad, settee. He leaned back for all the world like a king, reaching forward to take his cup dantily. He held the saucer out for a moment. "I don't suppose you could give me a drop of sunshine, dear?" He teased, eyes twinkling.

Minerva smirked, adding a generous dollop of whiskey before tightening the lid of the flask and slipping it inside her robes.

"I hear you've got a bet with a bit of fine whisky on the table," Albus hinted.

Minerva remained tight lipped and glared at Poppy.

"I didn't say a word," The matron said, her lose lips giving them away.

"Who?" Minerva muttered grumpily, eyeing several portraits in her office.

"Phenieus. He was visiting the milk maids again," Albus chuckled, leaning forward to take a piece of shortbread and rest it on his saucer.

"He's an incorrigible flirt and a wretched tattler." She huffed, eyeing the pastoral landscape that hung in the corner of her office. "I should have known better."

"Perhaps, but I thought to make the deal sweeter." Albus offered, "I'll throw in a bottle of my elf made wine." His words were light and playful, making the two women quite suspicious.

Minerva looked at Poppy who tilted her head to the side, "So, what are your terms, Albus?" Minerva askedskeptically.

"Oh, well, you've got your money on Hermione, and Poppy has her money on Abbie, correct? You two suspect that the girls are each aiming to get a kiss from our Potion's Professor. While I agree with Minerva, that Hermione would be the first to try. I am considering an altogether different proposal." He said, leaning forward to whisper his terms.

Hermone hadn't left her bed this morning. Abbie had brought her tea in, removed her shoes and crawled in beside her. "Are you going to make it?" She asked, turning over to proper her head on her hand as she looked at the young woman.

Hermione rolled her head to the side and frowned, blowing her hair out of her face, "Ugh, I feel like such an idiot." She kept reviewing the events of the previous evening in her head repeatedly. She couldn't muster the nerve to crawl out of bed and look Severus in the eye.

"You can't lay abed all day, and you are going to have to brush your teeth at some point," She said, wrinkling her nose.

Hermione giggled, pushing the girl back, sitting up, and grabbing a pillow to pummel her with. She brought the pillow down on the brunette's face.

"Uuff!" Abbie exclaimed as Hermione hit herwith the pillow. "You caught me off guard once. Don't expect to do it again," She said conjuring her own pillow and walloping Hermione in the shoulder.

A wild scuffle ensued until Abbie had pinned her friend, using her wiry strength to wrest Hermione into submission, "Do Ye Yield!" She said laughing. Both young women giggled breathily from their exertion. The sheets were strewn about and the comforter lay on the nightstand. The elves would think that someone had been attacked.

"Never!" Hermione yelled, bucking in an attempt to unseat the girl, whose Quidditch prowess gave her an unfair advantage. She was strong, but without her wand, there was no way that she could win this fight.

"I say again…. Do ye yield?" Abbie giggled mischievously before digging her fingers into Hermione's side, lighting the girls up in cascades of laughter.

"I YIELD!" Hermione yelled. "You're worse than Ron." She accused.

"No, I'm much better," Abbie teased, wagging her eyes at Hermione's grin. She began another tickle attack, one that was far too vigorous and sent them both sliding off the bed. Abbie flapped her hands and Hermione struggled futilely to grab the sheets.

Hermione hit first, cracking her head hard against the floor. Reaching back, she gasped at the blood visible on her hand.

"HERMIONE!" Abbie shrieked in a panic. "Are you … Oh, Merlin, wake up!" She said as the curly headed Gryffindor passed out.

"Oh," Calliope murmured as Severus' lips teased hers. She had stopped by to ask him to take her into the forest to look at various types of mushrooms. She was enjoying the book he had given her on fungi and thought that a practical lesson would be enjoyable, and the time alone …

He hadn't waited to get her out of the castle. Instead, he had backed her against his door and kissed her soundly. His hands had wandered eagerly down her curves. "Merlin, how did I wait this long to do this?" He hissed, fighting the urge to press himself against her.

Calliope's hands slid up and down his buttons eagerly before slipping into his dark hair. "Severus," She gasped, pressing her body against his and enjoying the feel of him. He was so tall and striking.

"Oh, you minx," He huffed, enjoying the bountiful curves as they pressed against him. There was too much fabric separating them, and he was powerless to stop his hands from wandering eagerly. Her response only served to spur him on. "Yesss," He hissed as her hand slid down his back, over his hip, and teased his bottom. Severus's lips trailed across her cheek and to her neck, where he teased and kissed. His thumb rubbing the curve of her breast.

"Don't make me wait any longer," He groaned.

"Oh, Severus, Let's . . ."

The flue activated and Albus' head popped out, "There has. . . Oh, hello my dear, so nice to see you," He said, noting the placement of Severus' hand, before continuing as if unaffected by the scene before him, "There has been an accident. Could you make a concussion potion and join us in the infirmary?" He said quickly before leaving the two lovers round eyed and shamefaced like two randy teenagers.

Severus looked down at the woman in his arms, jerking his hand away from her breast quickly, "I'm terribly sorry," he said apologetically.

"For what?" The young woman said, almost hurt.

"Well, for putting you in such a compromising position." He remarked, his eyes unable to meet hers.

"Severus Snape, of all the ridiculous . . . " She muttered, grabbing his collar and kissing him soundly, "Now, show me how to make a concussion potion." She demanded.

The wild knocking on the door had disturbed tea time. Miss. Smith had frantically exclaimed that she had deposited Hermione in one of the beds in the infirmary before searching for someone to help. It had been a little difficult to follow her explanation, given that she had begun stuttering in the middle of it, broke down and cried, adn then began yelling at them for not moving faster. The Slytherin had been startled to find that Poppy was not in her own office, Dumbledore was missing from his office, and then to find that that they were all holed up in Minerva's office drunk. Professor Flitwick had errands to run, or she would have gone to him first, likely.

Minerva sighed as she reached the infirmary door, supporting Poppy with one hand. She despaired of the woman ever being able to hold her liquor. Propping the matron on a nearby bed, she turned inquired, "Where's yer sober up Potion?" her burr showing.

"Oh, I'm out!" Poppy exclaimed loudly before falling back on the bed she had been sitting on and beginning to snore. Minerva rolled her eyes and turned to Albus expectantly.

Albus, who had followed them at a measured pace, offered to call Severus, and it only took thirty minutes for the man to arrive, potion in hand to see to Hermione's injury.

They crowd dispersed the moment that Severus arrived, "Well, I'm sure you have this all in hand," Albus had murmured, patting him on the shoulder before heading back to Minerva's office for another nip and to share a bit of gossip.

Slipping his hand under Hermione's back, Severus administered the potion carefully. Abbie waited in the corner, nibbling guiltily on her thumb nail while the Potion' master tended the Gryffindor's injury.

Hermione came to, her eyes lighting on Severus, "Oh," She said, hesitating. She blinked, her eyes glided to the corner, where Abbie stood looking on nervously. The curly headed young woman heard Poppy's snores and took a moment to register that she was likely in the most prime position in which she might ever find herself during the course of this bet. But several things came to mind: She did not want to kiss Severus Snape, Poppy had stopped snoring, and Abbie, who was rarely – if ever – ruffled, looked as if she were about to cry.

"Thank you," She murmured to the dark haired man, who nodded curtly.

"Do try to keep your future antics to a minimum," he said crossly, drawing his hand from behind her back and standing stiffly. He glared at Abbie before departing swiftly.

Abbie dashed forward as her head of house left in a billow of dark robes, "I'm so sorry," she whispered, seating herself beside Hermione and taking the woman's find fingers gently into her hand. "You've got ink in your cuticles again," She said exasperated, rubbing at Hermione's digits futilely.

The clever young woman watched silently for a moment, "Yes," she said curiously, "I'm not sure I'll ever break the habit." She said ruefully.

"I hope not!" Abbie teased, tears in her eyes.

Hermione sat up carefully, and Abbie grabbed her shoulders, her dark eyes widening worriedly, "Hermione, maybe you'd better lay down for a bit before you start moving . . . "

Hermione drew close noting the way that Abbie's hands trembled on her shoulders, "I'm alright. It was an accident. Only, I just wanted to say, you win." Shaking her head, her eyes roamed over the familiar yet dear face in front of her.

"I, what?" The Slytherin's voice trembled nervously.

"You win. You can have my boots." she said laughed, leaning forward slowly, her lips pressing softly against Abbie's.

Gingerly, as if holding some coveted treasure, Abbie slipped her hand around Hermione's back, parted her lips, and teased the rosy petals next to hers. She moaned, and Hermione sighed.

"I don't want your boots, you ridiculous Gryffindor. You're the only prize I was after." She admitted baldly.

Neither noticed Poppy's resigned expression as she turned her head to give them some privacy.

The Three Broomsticks was filled with the raucous laughter of the Hogwarts Professors and their apprentices.

"Not one, but TWO bottles of whisky!" Albus preened for the umpteenth time that evening.

"Rub it in Albus," Minerva grumbled.

Poppy giggled, eyeing Hermione and Abbie where they sat down toward the end of the table holding hands.

Calliope laughed, leaning into Severus, "I told you something was up." She teased.

"Pardon me if my mind was elsewhere. I think I had my hands full as it was." He said, smirking mischievously as his hand slipped below the table, resting on her thigh and causing her cheeks to bloom in a fetching shade of rose. "But if you ever pull a stunt like that," Severus glared at Abbie darkly, "I'll skin you and use you for potion's ingredients!" He warned.

Abbie smirked, knocking back a shot of bourbon, "Oh, it was all done in the friendly spirit of competition." She grinned.

The End

Thank you for reading!


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